


In Which Vexen Wants A Conversation But Gets A Blow Job Instead

by FirozTaverbi



Series: That Thorns Have Roses [2]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Smut, That Thorns Have Roses, dads!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 11:16:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5867257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FirozTaverbi/pseuds/FirozTaverbi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I am incredibly out of practice at writing smut. Part of TTHR/dads!au, where Vexen is not actually a Dad and Marluxia probably shouldn't be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Vexen Wants A Conversation But Gets A Blow Job Instead

Although it was past sunset the sky was still light, casting the horizon into an array of pretty silhouettes. From the roof the eastward slope of the town was visible, the viaduct leading the railway away into the distance. Marluxia was watching the clouds scudding across the sky, their bellies dark in the twilight. Vexen was watching Marluxia as he drew deep breaths from his cigarette and blew lungfuls of smoke into the breeze. Neither of them had spoken for several minutes. Somewhere in the town a pair of foxes were fighting, their shrill yelps and howls sounding close in the gathering dusk.

Evidently Marluxia had decided to go back to being distant. He had barely even glanced at Vexen all evening, even when they were doing the washing up together. When he had slipped outside for a smoke he gave no indication of caring that Vexen followed him, curious and possibly more than a little irritated. And now he was simply gazing at the landscape as if he hadn't been pinned underneath Vexen last night, gasping and bucking his hips and moaning things Vexen never thought he'd hear someone so cold and evasive say.

Vexen wanted Marluxia to be the first to speak. He wanted a confession, although he knew he wouldn't be so lucky. At the least he wanted some kind of recognition that what they were doing was more than the tired, lazy fumbling of two people too exhausted by parenthood to care about things like dating and romance any more. But Marluxia kept dragging on his cigarette as if Vexen wasn't even there.

Giving up, Vexen said, "You pulled one of my shirt buttons loose last night." Marluxia glanced at him impassively, flicking ash off his cigarette. It was hard to tell if he was amused or irritated. "You ought to be more careful."

"If you can't handle me, don't fuck me," said Marluxia airily.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I can handle you," Vexen drawled. He looked at the clouds. Back at Marluxia. Remembered his flushed cheeks, almost laughing, grasping at fistfuls of hair, fistfuls of bedding, eyes dark and intense with lust. 

Marluxia shifted his weight from one foot to the other, crossing his arms. Uncrossing his arms. Avoiding Vexen's eyes. Eventually he huffed and twisted away, saying, "So you want to talk about it. I should've guessed."

"Of course I want to talk about it," Vexen hissed. He forced himself to remain calm. Level headed. Marluxia had got him worked up countless times before and the kinds of situations they ended up in when that happened - good and bad - weren't exactly conducive to communication. "You completely ignore me ninety percent of the time. And the other ten percent you're trying to get into my pants."

Marluxia's eyes were guarded. He looked Vexen up and down with that piercing, judgemental gaze. "I hardly have to try."

"Whatever. The point is, don't you have any kind of middle ground? What even is this to you?"

Marluxia shrugged. "I thought you were supposed to be smart."

Being pulled down onto the bed, Marluxia tugging persistently at his clothes and his bottom lip. Struggling to get Marluxia's hands away from him long enough to get a condom on. Marluxia's breath hitching gloriously, head tipped back to reveal the long, smooth curve of his neck. Kissing, scratching, biting. Adding his own mementos to the patchwork of Marluxia's skin. Vexen thought about the subtle birthmarks covering Marluxia's body, interlaced with scars. Most of them self inflicted.

"I'd hypothesise that you're trying to protect yourself from getting too attached, but I doubt you've even admitted that to yourself."

Marluxia made a disbelieving noise, but he wouldn't meet Vexen's eyes. He said; "Just because I let you fuck me doesn't mean I have to put up with you the rest of the time."

"Alright, alright, forget it." Vexen rolled his eyes. If that was what Marluxia considered "letting" Vexen fuck him he hesitated to imagine what him actually initiating sexual contact would be like. 

This always happened when they were alone. They would either flirt idly or argue about insignificant things, depending on Marluxia's mood. Whether the result was red faces and petty insults or Marluxia tugging at Vexen's belt buckle - and it was almost always one or the other - Marluxia would saunter off when they were done, leaving Vexen flustered and enraged and swearing that this was the last time he would let himself be so manipulated.

The thing that really irritated him was that Marluxia seemed to actually enjoy winding him up. The fact that it was so easy to do so in no way mitigated his frustration. The worst part was that Marluxia hardly even had to do anything: just a glower here, a cutting remark there, and he had Vexen in the palm of his hand. Sometimes literally.

He thought about Marluxia digging his fingernails into his shoulder blades. He thought about Marluxia riding him, sweating, biting his lip with the effort it took to move slowly, to resist the urge for release. He thought about Marluxia's breath returning to its normal pace, the weight of his body against Vexen's chest, the almost affectionate way his hands caressed Vexen's skin. 

He thought about the scabs on Marluxia's arms from where he put out his cigarettes. He thought about the faint parallel lines on his wrists, his hips, the insides of his thighs.

"You're never going to open up to me, are you?" he said finally. Marluxia was crushing the stub of his cigarette under his foot. It was darker now, colder. The foxes had stopped screaming. Marluxia smirked at him. Vexen imagined a sadness in his shielded eyes.

"You don't want me to."

"Shouldn't that be for me to decide?"

Marluxia shrugged. He looked out at the darkening sky, scratching carelessly at his arms. Even with the aura from the town's street lights a haze of stars was becoming visible.

"You want my sob story? Would that make you feel better?"

Vexen thought about the way Marluxia would grow sullen after sex, sometimes making excuses before leaving, sometimes not. He thought about how nobody knew where he came from or how old he really was or what had happened to his family.

"Which one are you offering?" he asked snidely, pretending not to care. Marluxia considered this. He toyed with his lighter, flicking the flames on and off again.

"My parents died in a car crash when I was young. I don't remember much about them."

"Really?"

"No." Marluxia looked away. "Why does it even matter to you? Shit happens. You don't have to deal with it."

But I do, Vexen thought; every day I have to deal with your moods and your irresponsibility and your self harm. Every time you're late to pick up Larxene and she thinks you're not going to show up. Do you think I haven't noticed that you flinch if I touch you unexpectedly? Do you think I don't notice the smell of alcohol on your breath when you show up at my house uninvited? Do you think it doesn't matter to me?

What he said was, "But I care."

"That's your problem," Marluxia snapped crossly. Quickly, a little too quickly. He folded his arms, unfolded them, paced around.

"Maybe, but it also makes you my problem." Vexen watched from the wall. The wind tugged at Marluxia's hair. It needed cutting. At the very least it needed to be reacquainted with a hairbrush. "It doesn't take a genius to work out that you've had a hard life and that's why you don't trust anybody. But we're trying to help you and you're just making it difficult for yourself."

"We should go inside," said Marluxia. He stood at the edge of the roof, looking down at the street below. 

"Yes, I know, I said something you don't like so you're ignoring me."

"I'm not ignoring you."

"You're ignoring what I said."

"Whatever," said Marluxia. "If you're so smart then you should be able to tell that I'm not interested in talking."

Vexen scoffed irritably. "Unfortunately you don't just get to avoid all the things you don't like indefinitely."

"Watch me," said Marluxia, without a hint of sarcasm. Vexen let out a groan. Somewhere in the distance a car horn went off, the sound carrying directionlessly in the darkness.

"If you're going to be having regular sex with me, the least you can do is admit it. Admit that you want it!"

"I'm not denying anything," Marluxia said petulantly, reminding Vexen of his equally difficult daughter. "What exactly do you want? A public confession of my undying love? An engagement ring?" He flipped his wrist mockingly. "Get real."

"I don't want you to keep ignoring me all the time. A little acknowledgement goes a long way. God forbid, maybe even a little affection."

Marluxia didn't reply for a long time, so long that Vexen thought he had just elected to ignore him completely. But then he said quite maliciously, "You're fucking stupid if you think that's what you want."

"I'm sorry, is it not normal in your particular universe to be attracted to the people you sleep with?" and then Vexen added, rather more sourly, "Don't you want any of that from me?"

Marluxia kissed his teeth irritably and said nothing. He put his hands on the rail at the edge of the roof, looking out across the town, leaning far enough over the edge to make Vexen just a little uncomfortable.

"Ignoring me again, I see."

Marluxia pulled out another cigarette and began to toy with it. It wasn't usual for him to smoke two in quick succession. He had to make them last.

Leaning against the wall, Vexen thought about Marluxia's smoky, earthy scent, which was becoming almost familiarly pleasant to him now. He thought about how Larxene usually smelled of cigarette smoke too, despite being eight years old. He thought about the smell of damp and dirt disguised by the bitter tang of tobacco.

"Well?"

"Of course I do," said Marluxia finally, scowling. His voice was quiet, almost stripped of its usual aggression. And then he murmured, "I never found out what happened to my parents. My birth certificate just says 'unknown'. I wasn't lucky enough to get adopted either."

"Are you telling the truth this time?"

"Yes!" Marluxia snapped, but he seemed to catch himself before he said anything else. He knew he had no right to be indignant. He hid behind his fringe of hair, leaning against the railing, turning the cigarette over and over in his slender, calloused hands. "I don't know if my mother gave me up because I'm deformed, or if the social services took me away from her, or if they just found me in a dumpster somewhere." Vexen had to move closer to hear Marluxia over the wind. He crossed the gap between them cautiously, as if Marluxia was some flighty animal tensed to flee at any moment. "And I spent years waiting for her to come back. To tell me it was all an accident and take me home and make everything better. And after I had Larxene- after Larxene was born, I wasted so much time dreaming that a white night would come along and solve all our problems." Marluxia put the cigarette between his lips. He took it out again. He scratched at the blister forming on his arm from the last smoke. "But I had to learn that nobody was ever going to rescue me-"

"I'm not trying to rescue you-"

"Will you shut up?" Marluxia snapped, meeting Vexen's eyes for a brief moment. The dusky half-light reflected moisture forming in the corners of his eyes. He pursed his lips. "I've met people like you. You think you can fix me. You think you're special, that you're going to be the one who unlocks my frozen heart and teaches me the meaning of love." He scoffed derisively. "But the thing about people with saviour complexes is that they're only interested in saving while it serves them. When they realise that I'm going to stay broken they wonder why they loved me." The foxes were fighting again; their howls sounded pitiful now. "That's because they never loved me: they just loved that I made them feel better about themselves."

Marluxia leaned against the rail again. He craned his neck to look at the sky. Swathes of stars were visible through the clouds, the moon a smoky streak of light.

"I enjoy the sex," he said, which was probably the first time he had been so frank about his relations with Vexen. "But if you can't fuck me without getting your hopes up and expecting more from me then just quit."

Vexen wanted to say, but I really am different. He wanted to say, how are you ever going to be loved if you don't ever let anyone in? He wanted to say, you can't always push everyone away and then act like it's somehow their fault.

He thought about Marluxia's dark, guarded manner. He thought about Larxene, jealous and possessive of her father; lonesome, just like her father; angry, just like her father. He thought about Marluxia pretending he wasn't crying when he showed up drunk at Vexen's door, those needy hands touching his body, wanting to be held, coddled, loved. He thought about Marluxia falling asleep during a movie or while watching the kids or waiting for dinner, his head resting on Vexen's shoulder and hand placed as if coincidentally on Vexen's thigh. He thought about Marluxia sighing and almost smiling when Vexen kissed his lips, his feminine jawline, his glossy skin. 

He thought about how much it wasn't just sex any more. He thought about how Marluxia couldn't admit that. But what he did was just pull the unlit cigarette out of Marluxia's mouth and slide it back into the box.

"Put that away. You're not going to smoke it." And then, "I'm going to believe you this time. Don't make me regret it." He leant against the railing next to Marluxia. The door to the stairs was swinging open and closed in the breeze. It was just possible to make out the weeds growing between cracks in the concrete. 

Marluxia kissed his teeth. "I'm telling the truth." The moon peeped out into the night air for a few minutes, throwing dark shadows from their feet. Marluxia tapped his nails against the rusted steel.

"Is there anything else you want to tell me while you're at it?"

Marluxia glanced at Vexen through his hair. Amused again? In the darkness it was difficult to tell.

"I'd hate to ruin the suspense."

"Tch. I should have known you'd say that."

After a long pause Marluxia sniffed. "Whatever. It's all in the past. I'm not going back."

"Me either," said Vexen.

"Yeah, Zexion might have some awkward questions about his 'grandparents'." Definitely amused. For all Marluxia complained about other people using his misfortune to make themselves feel better, he clearly had no qualms taking pleasure in Vexen's shameful secrets.

"I'll tell him when he's old enough to understand."

"I wouldn't bother."

"You wouldn't bother telling anyone anything," Vexen retorted, feeling a smile creep onto his face. They were back in familiar territory now.

"Keeps people on their toes," Marluxia said airily. He rubbed at his arms; Vexen realised how cold it was beginning to get. He had a tendency to lose track of time when he was around Marluxia.

"We should go inside."

Neither of them moved. 

Vexen considered threading his hands into Marluxia's tangled hair and pulling him closer. Tasting the nicotine and tar on his mouth. He imagined Marluxia's cold fingers wriggling under his shirt, making his muscles tense. He imagined Marluxia crouching, tugging at his belt, breath beginning to quicken. He knew it could be as simple as turning to kiss that pretty, petulant face, but he wanted Marluxia to break first.

Marluxia was watching the clouds again, little more than his outline visible. He chewed thoughtfully at his lip. It was a few minutes before he glanced at Vexen, at Vexen's waist, back at his face.

"What are you waiting for?" Vexen asked, trying to sound casual. "A written contract?" Marluxia snickered and kissed him forcefully, fists twisting into Vexen's hair. 

It astounded Vexen that Marluxia could act so aloof when at the slightest provocation he would be pulling away the collar of Vexen's shirt, sucking and biting at the exposed flesh and leaving a trail of saliva which made Vexen's skin prickle. Their bodies flush, Vexen pressed against the railing, Marluxia's hip pressed against his crotch, tongue recalling the curve of his jaw.

"Shit, your hands are cold."

"At least I'm trying to warm them up a bit before I put them down your pants."

"Alright, credit where credit's due."

Vexen closed his eyes, biting his lip to withhold a gasp as Marluxia crumpled his shirt up to his ribs and scraped his fingernails down his stomach. His skin tingled at the cold, at Marluxia's hot breath, his teeth, his possessive, hungry hands. He grabbed a handful of messy hair and pressed Marluxia's face against his freshly bared skin. Marluxia hissed in irritation, but obviously he wasn't put off enough to deny Vexen the pleasure of his tongue. 

The moon was casting its light across the town. Vexen scanned the rooftops, hoping it was too dark for any onlookers to make out their forms. He heard the bell of the tram clanging towards the town centre. The night-time coldness ebbed away, the cool air filling Vexen's lungs a refreshment from the heat spreading through his body.

"I think I like you best from this angle," he managed to say, which earned him a handful of scratches in delicate places. He thought about Marluxia naked on his bed, berating Vexen for not getting his clothes off quickly enough. He thought about Marluxia spreading his legs, eyes half-lidded in anticipation; he thought about Marluxia arching his spine and whining meaningless words into the pillow. He worked his hands through Marluxia's hair, fingers catching on the knots, wanting the thudding in his ears to last forever, wanting more, wanting to trap Marluxia against the railing, wanting to make him howl like the foxes, weak and shivering and needing him.

A few minutes later Marluxia stood up without fanfare and spat over the edge of the roof. Vexen squinted at the street below.

"That's not going to be recognisable, is it?"

Marluxia shrugged. He was unwrapping a stick of chewing gum. Vexen replaced his clothes and smoothed his hair down. The others were probably waiting for them to take their children home. As if nothing had happened, Marluxia was already approaching the door. The one advantage of his scruffy hair was that it didn't look any different to usual, although they had been on the roof so long Vexen was sure everyone would know what they'd done.

"Wait." At the door Vexen caught Marluxia's arm. The other man turned around just long enough for Vexen to give him a quick kiss. Marluxia rolled his eyes, evidently unimpressed by this romantic gesture, and headed down the stairs.


End file.
